Gino Risola moved from Stamford when he was a teenager, but he never really left.

His connection to the people of his hometown was unbroken.

So what happened last Saturday in Waukee, Iowa, reverberated so strongly in Stamford that it may as well have happened here.

A man ambushed Risola and his wife as they returned home about an hour after midnight, pointed a gun at Risola and fired multiple times. Risola was rushed to a hospital, where he died. He was 41, a father of four.

It was the first murder in Waukee since 1977.

Police in Iowa caught a suspect later that day — a 42-year-old Massachusetts native with a violent history and a long prison record.

Risola’s shocked friends and family members in Stamford don’t know what to do with the news.

“Who expects this?” asked Gene Terenzio, who said Risola has been like a brother since their boyhood days in Springdale. “I can’t get my head straight. It’s so crazy that you can’t put two and two together. There’s no answer.”

Terenzio said they were so close that most nights growing up his mother set a plate for Risola at the supper table.

“He was a special person. He touched everybody he met. You couldn’t not like him,” Terenzio said. “He knew how to put a smile on your face. He could turn the worst scenario into a joke.”

Terenzio’s wife, Antonette, said Risola became her brother, too.

“Gino was gentle and kind-hearted. He saw the good in people. He caught your heart from the minute you knew him,” she said. “He loved to talk. He could make you laugh until you cried. He would randomly call to ask if you were OK, to give you a shoulder to cry on. If he saw something he could do to help you, he would do it.”

That makes it all the more devastating that he died the way he did, she said.

“I don’t want him to be known as leaving the world being shot,” Antonette said.

And at the hands of someone with a history of brutality.

Hours after the murder, police in Iowa arrested Brendan McGuinness, whom they described as an “associate” of Risola. Iowa newspapers reported that McGuinness was about to go to trial for an incident over the summer in which he attacked a man who was trying to break up a fight outside a bar. McGuinness allegedly beat the man unconscious and fractured his jaw. The man needed six staples on the back of his head and stitches to his lip.

Risola was tending bar the night of the incident and was listed as a witness in McGuinness’ trial, Iowa newspapers reported.

A Massachusetts newspaper reported that McGuinness has a criminal record there that began when he was 11. He went to prison for robbing a parking attendant at gunpoint, and while incarcerated head-butted a corrections officer, knocking out his teeth and giving him a concussion.

McGuinness returned to prison after he was convicted of stealing prescription painkillers from a pharmacy. Free again, he attacked a police officer trying to apprehend him for shoplifting, sending the officer to the hospital.

McGuinness recently moved to Iowa. Now Risola is dead.

Risola’s Iowa neighbors told reporters they were devastated. Risola made them laugh and helped them whenever he had the chance, they said. Patti Fellers said Risola once noticed that boards in her fence were broken and, on his own, bought materials and fixed them.

In Stamford, Risola’s 84-year-old uncle, Joe Risola, said he is unable to accept the murder.

Gino Risola moved to Arizona with his family while he was a student at Stamford High School because his father had health problems and the climate there was better for him. Risola met his wife, Brea, in Arizona, and they moved to Iowa several years ago for her job.

But he was in constant contact with people in Stamford, Joe Risola said.

“He called me once or twice a week,” Joe said. “Every time we parted on the phone, he said, ‘I love you, Uncle Joe.’ I would say, ‘Same here, Gino.’”

Gene Terenzio said it wasn’t unusual for his friend to call three times a day. “He was far away, but you never felt like he was.”

Antonette Terenzio said Risola loved visiting Stamford and when he did, urged all his friends to get together.

“We need to do it, get together, to give him his wish,” she said. “He would call my husband at 3 a.m. to share a funny childhood memory. Now we have to make sure his memory stays alive.”